


You Can't Know How I've Missed You

by SEMellark



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Fantasy, M/M, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-16 20:38:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3502001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SEMellark/pseuds/SEMellark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Due to their own ignorance, the Gods of Solidarity were separated from one another and sentenced to an endless cycle of life and death. Millions of years later, they get their first and only chance to make right a wrong, and prove to an even higher power that a utopia is not just a pipe dream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Fall

**Author's Note:**

> I had fun with this one. Most of it is already written, although I'm assuming that the editing process will slow down updates. We'll see!

In the beginning, Izanami, the Goddess of Creation, made her children Separate. She also made them One.

Constitution, Dignity, Patience, Temperance, and Truth.

Originally, she made them perfect.

They worked harmoniously, and saw no distinction between their own individual souls. In that way, the children of Izanami were not capable of functioning alone.

Constitution could not maintain order without Patience. Temperance would neglect its own needs without Truth’s sobering wisdom. Dignity needed all four of its siblings close at hand to truly feel as if it were worth something.

They were Izanami’s pride and joy. Her husband, Izanagi, had a plan in the works. He wished to create a realm without strife, without things such as gender and ethnicity to divide the population. Thrilled at the notion, Izanami had birthed the most magnificent of children to govern that perfect realm, the five Gods of Solidarity.  

She loved not a one above the rest, for they were all the same in her eyes. And instilled within each of her children was the same love that made possible their creation. It was that love that made them One while they continued to be Separate.

But in her adoration, Izanami also made them ignorant.

It was never in their design to harbor ill will toward another creature. Not the inhabitants of the realm they were instructed to watch over, not their mother or her husband, and certainly not each other.

All five of the gods were different in some way, though they themselves never acknowledged it, never knew the meaning of the term “unique.”

Dignity had always had the weakest heart. It was the most fragile of the Gods of Solidarity, the hardest to build up, the easiest to tear down.

Dignity was the first to succumb to the sickness, and one by one, its siblings followed thereafter, each falling victim to the hissing disease of which they were supposed to be immune: Humanity.

They learned the meaning of “unique.” They learned about color, about gender, about the things their siblings had which they themselves lacked.

The five of them became corrupt, still One but all the more Separate.

Patience devoted its time more so to Constitution than any of its siblings. Temperance decided that Truth was its favorite. And Dignity, being the source of it all, spent most of its time alone no matter how much it hurt.

Izanami watched the deterioration of her children along with that of the world they governed. Those who had once been perfect beings fell victim to the same diseases as the Gods of Solidarity.

The perfect world her husband had created with such care grew divided. They were no longer just people. They were also men and women, black and white, rich and poor, and many other things. And it was all because of her children, her creations, her mistakes.

But what hurt Izanami most was watching her children fight against the Oneness she had given them. They no longer loved one another wholeheartedly, and to the goddess, that was the ultimate tragedy.

Izanami died from her heartbreak before her children even realized what they had done. And when they learned, they immediately tried to repent, consumed by a guilt they were ill prepared to deal with, for they had been born for perfection.

Consumed by rage and grief, Izanagi turned on his deceased wife’s precious treasures, the Gods of Solidarity. He stripped them of the last fragments of their Oneness, leaving them wholly Separate. He then banished them from the realm of the gods, cursing them to an endless cycle of mortality, of life and death spent entirely alone.

Izanagi ensured that the five of them would never meet again for as long as they lived. Some incarnations were born galaxies apart. Others were separated by mere miles, though Izanagi never gave them the means to reach each other.

This continued for over three millennia. The pain of losing his wife and the utopia he had created dulled over the years, though Izanagi refused to let the fallen gods go even a single day without suffering.

When each of them died, before the start of their next cycle, Izanagi summoned the original souls of Temperance, Constitution, Dignity, Patience, and Truth to his side. He would exchange words with them, see for himself how the years had changed them, and then send each one on their way, stripping their memories each time.

But unbeknownst to Izanagi, his resolve began to fade each time he met with the souls of his wife’s children. He began to wonder what she would think of it all, had she lived.

Even gods made mistakes, and to place an expectation such as perfection onto such young, ignorant gods was a recipe for disaster. Perhaps their fall had been inevitable, and yes, they had to suffer the consequences of their actions, but the punishment could not last forever.

And after three millennia, Izanagi, the God of Creation, decided that enough was enough.

He chose the most underdeveloped of the planets he had created, the one which had been meant to be a utopia with the Gods of Solidarity to govern it, and set the wheels in motion for their final test.

If Constitution, Dignity, Patience, Temperance, and Truth could recognize each other while in the clutches of despair and rely on one another, they could again become One, put an end to their lonely reincarnation cycles, and return to the land of the gods.

But if they continued to fight against their bond as they had in the beginning, they would be Separate forever, and solidarity would never again come to be on Earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be the hardest I've worked on anything aside from my Blade Runner AU...


	2. Truth

Nanase Haruka watches intently as raindrops slide down a shadowed windowpane, gathering up the dust and dirt and leaving clear trails in their wake.

Saying he’s miffed would be an understatement. If he had his way, he wouldn’t even be in school right now. When the weather is like this, Haruka usually always skips. He prefers to spend the gloomier days in bed, listening to the sound of the rain pounding down on his roof.

Statistically, he sleeps better when exposed to the lull of water, so today could have been a perfect opportunity for Haruka to catch up on his sleep, if it weren’t for _that guy._

“You can’t still be mad at me.” Haruka hears the exasperated sigh but continues to stare out the window spitefully. “Haru, you _have_ to come to school, you know.”

“I came yesterday. And the day before.”

“And you missed three days before that!” Makoto really should be used to his friend’s stubbornness by now, though he is the only one who can manage to do the impossible where Haruka is concerned. Surely, no other person could convince him to leave his home on a day such as this. “You can’t keep skipping. They’ll contact your parents at this rate.”

At that, Haruka finally turns his gaze away from the window, choosing instead to glare at his friend, who never seems to know when to stop talking. Makoto, to his credit, only smiles in response, probably relieved that Haruka has finally tuned in to his surroundings completely.

Haruka doubts his parents would care if they found out he barely goes to school, though he doesn’t say as much. Makoto already knows.

“Even the teacher isn’t here.” Haruka says, gesturing toward the front of the classroom where no esteemed adult presides. “So, why am I?”

“The storm is probably delaying trains.” Makoto muses, twirling his pencil masterfully between two of his long fingers, lazily propping up his head with his free hand. “Just be patient, Haru-chan.”

“I’m putting ghost pepper spice in your laundry the next time you stay over.” Haruka grumbles, and Makoto’s laugh is easy and quiet despite Haruka’s brusque attitude. He sees right through it.

The classroom door slides open, and everyone save Haruka straightens up in their seats, quieting down in preparation for the start of the school day. But the man who steps inside isn’t their usual teacher. Even Haruka, who hardly ever attends class, knows this much.

“Listen up.” The man says curtly, though everyone is already perfectly silent. “This storm is likely to get worse, and a lot of the trains have shut down due to flooding on the tracks. We’re going to send you all home for the day. If you have no means of transportation, head straight to the auditorium for further instruction.”

He leaves as quickly as he came, and Haruka can’t help but feel smug as Makoto glances over at him, shrugging sheepishly.

The evacuation is quick and relatively painless, although Haruka hates large crowds and keeps behind Makoto as they walk, allowing the larger boy to make a path amongst the throng of chattering students.

“We’ll have to share my umbrella.” Makoto says pointedly once they step outside, and Haruka rolls his eyes, the subtle, teasing jab not lost on him. No matter how hard he’d searched, Makoto hadn't been able to find an umbrella anywhere in Haruka’s home when he picked him up for school.

“I don’t mind getting wet.” Haruka replies, repeating the same words he uttered to Makoto that morning when asked why he didn’t own an umbrella. “It’s really not as bad as everyone is saying.”

Makoto looks dubious, peering out from underneath the awning that looms high over their heads. A thick rope of lightning tears through the sky, followed by a boom of thunder that leaves the ground vibrating beneath them, and Makoto nods to himself. “Oh, yeah. Definitely not that bad.”

They huddle close together as they walk, for Haruka quickly realizes that there is nothing fun about the ferocious onslaught of cutting rain. It stings where it lands on the teenager’s skin, and Makoto has to keep a firm grip on the handle of his umbrella lest it be blown away in the wind.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a storm this bad.” Makoto says. Haruka has to strain to hear him over the roar of the elements. “I hope the power doesn’t go down.”

Haruka has to agree. The prospect of spending the rest of his day alone in the dark isn’t an appealing one, though he supposes he should just count his blessings and be grateful he isn’t in school.

Makoto steers them toward the shopping district, presumably to cut down their travel time. Usually they take the longer route, which bypasses the ocean, but Haruka doubts Makoto wants to go anywhere near it with the weather like this.

A strong gust of wind bears down on Haruka, making him stagger on his feet and lurch against Makoto’s side. In the same motion, Makoto’s umbrella is almost completely ripped out of his hand, flipping inside out as it jerks with the wind.

Makoto swears, wrestling with the umbrella, and Haruka lifts his forearm up to his eyes, trying to shield himself while simultaneously searching for a place where they can wait this out.

Most of the shops are closed, the windows boarded up to prevent massive property damage, so no hope for sanctuary there. But roughly ten meters to Haruka’s left, there’s an opening to a building that appears to be a shrine, and Haruka reaches out with his free hand to grab onto Makoto’s wrist and tug him along.

Once they’re inside, Haruka releases his hold on Makoto’s wrist, reaching up to loosen the sopping, constricting tie from around his neck while he shakes water from his hair.

“We should have just stayed at school.” Makoto sighs, tossing his umbrella to the ground near the door. It’s obviously broken beyond repair. “At least the structure is sound.”

“Careful. You’ll anger the spirits.” Haruka says lowly, and Makoto smiles, though it seems forced.

“I don’t remember a shrine being here.” Makoto replies, looking up to the cobweb infested rafters. “It doesn’t look like it’s been used in ages.”

Haruka sneezes, proving Makoto’s point. If there were any light to be seen, he’s sure there would be visible particles of dust floating through the air. The floorboards creak with each step they take, and the wooden walls and various banisters are badly decayed.

The state of the shrine almost invokes some pity within Haruka. He doesn’t believe in gods or spirits, and if asked, Makoto will dodge the subject, reluctant to admit that he doesn’t either.

Oddly enough, they’ve talked about it before, the existence of higher powers. At this point in their friendship, there’s hardly anything they haven’t discussed.

But whether or not they believe is irrelevant in this case. Here they are, taking shelter from the rain in what was once a holy place. Whichever god or goddess was once worshipped here, their followers obviously no longer believe, and real or not, Haruka is sorry for the fickle nature of humanity.

“Hey, I think there was a plaque here.” Makoto says, standing near a wall where the alter must have been. His voice echoes in the empty shrine. “There’s so much dust, I could hardly see it.”

Come to think of it, Haruka can’t even hear the rain anymore. He glances over his shoulder, back toward the street, and is shocked to find that the rain hasn’t let up even the slightest bit.

“Izanami, Goddess of Creation and Death.” Makoto reads slowly. “Hm. I’ve never even heard of this goddess before.”

Something in the air is off. “Makoto – “

He’s cut off by a startled yelp, and he swings around in enough time to watch as Makoto staggers away from the uncovered plaque, revealing a shadowed figure beyond the curve of his body.

It’s fairly small, and Haruka’s first instinct is to accuse Makoto of being frightened by a cat or dog, but when he looks closer, he realizes the figure is not a domesticated pet, but a fox, standing below the mounted plaque and watching the two high school students intently.

For all intents and purposes, it looks like an ordinary fox, scraggly coat, fluffy tail and all. But Haruka is unsettled by the creature’s focused, unblinking stare. Normally wild animals turn and run when confronted with humans.

But this time, Haruka is the one who wants to take Makoto’s hand and bolt, to leave this abandoned shrine behind and forget they ever stepped foot inside of it.

“The true Hell lies within your memories.” Haruka hears it as if the words were spoken directly in his ear. And he _knows_ that the fox is the one speaking, although the creature hasn’t moved at all. “What will you do in the face of it, my master cannot help but wonder.”

Makoto is trembling, and Haruka reaches for his shoulder without thinking, to comfort his friend as well as himself.

The moment Haruka’s fingertips so much as brush against the fabric of Makoto’s blazer, a searing pain shoots up Haruka’s arm, so acute that it paralyzes him and renders him unable to make any sound.

He and Makoto are quite literally blown apart, flung to opposite sides of the room. The sounds of the storm finally return and the room is filled with a bright light as lightning rips through the sky, thunder following shortly thereafter.

Haruka’s mouth opens in a silent cry as his back hits the wall, the air leaving his lungs in an unforgiving rush that seems unnatural. The crack of his head against the rotted wood is audible, and more bright lights explode behind Haruka’s eyes at the force of it.

“Do not waste this gift.” There is another flash of light and then the fox is crouching before Haruka. Beyond the pointed ears and lashing tail, Haruka can see Makoto’s slumped form against the opposite wall. For a brief, terrifying moment, Haruka considers that he might have just lost his best friend. “You will not receive another, Nanase Haruka.”

It disappears with the next stroke of lightning, and Haruka is left on the floor, unable to breathe, unable to think. He can’t tear his eyes from Makoto. He can’t do anything until he knows his friend is okay.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait long. Makoto’s groan is long and guttural as he reaches up to grasp at his head, using his free arm to push himself up and away from the wall. Haruka sees this and lurches, maneuvering onto his hands and knees in an attempt to crawl to Makoto’s side.

But he stops. All at once, Haruka feels a sharp pain at the base of his skull. Within seconds, it spreads to the rest of his head, and he squints into the darkness, fighting against the urge to vomit.

“Haruka – Haru, are you – “ Makoto looks up, still clutching his head. His words slur together and his green eyes don’t seem focused. But whatever he sees in Haruka’s expression makes him pause. “What’s wrong? Haru, you’re bleeding!”

“I – “ He can’t stop staring at Makoto’s face. Haruka sees it every day, but in this exact moment, the color of Makoto’s eyes, the shape of his nose, and the curve of his jaw seem new, different, as if he’s seeing them for the first time. But there’s recognition there, too, beyond the throbbing pain in Haruka’s skull. “… Truth?”

Makoto’s mouth parts the slightest bit, and Haruka can almost hear the sharp intake of his breath. Tears gather and fall from green, green eyes at an almost inhuman rate, and the hand that was cradling the side of Makoto’s head slides down to his mouth, trying and failing to hide his shock, his desperation.

“ _Tem?”_

Haruka lurches away from the wall completely, though he doesn’t feel as if he’s in total control of his body. He feels like something is yanking his strings, forcing him into motion, telling Haruka that if he wants the sensation to stop, he _needs_ to get to Makoto.

The other boy scrambles toward him, and they meet in the middle of the shrine in a fierce tangle of clutching arms and legs. Haruka doesn’t think he’s cried this hard or this much since his grandmother died ten years ago, but he doesn’t have long to contemplate it, because Makoto’s hands, warm despite the rain still clinging to his skin, are cupped around either side of Haruka’s neck, tilting him back, pulling him up.

Makoto smells like rain, and Haruka can almost taste it on his tongue as Makoto kisses him, coaxes his mouth open, presses so close it doesn’t seem like they’ll ever be separate again.

 _Separate._ The word tumbles around in Haruka’s pounding head, chills his blood, and even though Makoto’s arms are wound tight around him, Haruka can still feel himself falling.

* * *

“Tem? What are we going to do about Earth?”

Temperance sighs to himself, turning to meet the worried, evergreen gaze of his favorite brother.

He has just recently learned those words. Favorite. Evergreen. Brother. Color, gender, and definitive adjectives are a foreign concept to the young god, and to the rest of his siblings as well.

What they will do with these new concepts is yet to be determined. So far, they have only caused trouble, and driven Temperance and his siblings apart.

“I do not know.” Temperance replies, returning his gaze to the chaotic landscape that he and his brothers govern. He has taken to watching the humans, now men and women, fighting amongst themselves and bringing unhappiness and discord to those around them. He may not be Truth, but even Temperance can see the severity of what they have done to Izanagi’s utopia. “But we cannot go back to how it was before.” 

Truth says nothing, but Temperance can feel a throbbing sadness in his soul, a sadness that isn’t his own.

“Brother.” Temperance tries to distract Truth from it all, angling his body so he is no longer facing the pool of water, where the reflections of billions of mortal faces swim. “It pains me to see you like this. You cannot take all the blame upon yourself.”

“I should have foreseen this.” Truth says, tone flat and expression hollow. “Mother made me to be our guiding light. I was supposed to prevent such corruption amongst the five of us, and I failed.”

“You did not!” Temperance exclaims, reaching out to take his sibling’s face in hand and gently guide it until Truth can look nowhere but into his eyes. “Mother never imagined this for us, therefore you could not possibly have known.”

Truth’s response is but a mere smile, small and dull compared to those of the past. Temperance feels a rush of frustration toward Truth – but how could that be? Is frustration not an emotion directed toward those one despises? – but he pushes it aside and leans forward to press his mouth to Truth’s.

“This is all because of Dignity.” Temperance says against his brother’s lips. “He infected all of us.”

“Do not shred our bonds even more, Tem.” Truth replies, practically begging, and Temperance lowers his eyes in shame, though he does not move away from his brother. The distance between the five of them grows with each passing day, and like this, Temperance can almost pretend that they are still completely One. “We are all as much at fault as Dignity.”

“You would have never tainted us.” Temperance says firmly, dropping his hand from Truth’s face down to his shoulder, rubbing his thumb over the exposed skin he finds there. “Neither would Patience or Constitution.”

“And you? Would you have tainted us?”

Temperance closes his eyes. “I have realized that Dignity and I as Separate entities are still very much alike. We are both too proud. I cannot say with certainty that I would not have infected you all, had I caught Humanity first.”

The young god experiences a deep stirring within his soul, can feel wisps of Truth’s indignation and concern, as well as faint exasperation from Constitution, wherever he might be.

“I am sorry. I should not have asked you that question.” Truth says, reaching up to close his hand around Temperance’s. His skin is hot, hotter than his brother’s, and Temperance yearns for the warmth that was once shared amongst the five of them, now solely owned by Truth. “You possess more control than Dignity. You would not have been tempted as he was.”

Temperance shakes his head, reopening his eyes to fix the other god with an admonishing glare. “You have too much faith in me, Brother.”

“Impossible.” Truth declares, and for a moment, he seems like his old self, small dimples appearing at the corners of his mouth when he grins. “I am never wrong about these things.”

Temperance feels a rush of affection for his brother, but he is careful to keep a tight rein on it, lest he lose more of his Oneness with the others, or the very control Truth spoke of, that which makes him Temperance, the Fourth God of Solidarity.

Despite his best efforts, Temperance has come to the conclusion that he loves Truth most of all. It is why he kisses him and not the others, why he fights to keep him close even though they are corrupted.

“Some good has come of this.” Truth says at length, and Temperance quirks an eyebrow, cannot _wait_ to hear what good could have possibly come from their fall from perfection. “At least now I know what to call your eyes.”

“Oh?” Temperance has never seen his own face. He can only see the reflection of others in his pool, never himself. “What do you call them?”

Truth says nothing aloud, but slowly, Temperance picks up on the word that his brother is trying to communicate to him.

“Sapphire, huh?” Truth nods, squeezing Temperance’s hand. “I have a word for your eyes as well.”

A few moments go by, and Temperance is in agony, because not too long ago, the five of them shared thoughts. Now it takes a lot of work to communicate even a single word.

“Evergreen.” Truth says eventually. He looks to Temperance’s pool, to the humans floating within it. The eyes Temperance adores so much are clouded, misted over by the human curse of tears. “I love it, Tem. Thank you.”

Temperance nods before extracting his hand from his brother’s. Seconds later, Truth disappears, gone to check on the rest of their siblings.

Alone once again, Temperance turns back to the water before him, watches with _sapphire_ eyes as a woman makes clothes from leaves, unnaturally aware that she is naked.

“I am sorry.” Temperance whispers. “You were never supposed to be ashamed.”


	3. Temperance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to another exciting chapter of Free! Eternal Punishment.

There’s a beeping noise, dull and muted in Haruka’s ears. He listens to it while continuing to breathe, trying to make sense of it. It’s always deathly quiet in his house, so there shouldn’t be anything disrupting Haruka’s sleep like this.

Cognizance returns to him slowly, and with it, Haruka realizes that the beeping syncs perfectly with his heart. Only then does he understand.

It’s difficult to pry his eyes open, and while there isn’t much light in the room to speak of, Haruka still has to blink a few times before the pain goes away completely.

He’s in a hospital bed, propped up against firm pillows with an IV drip in his arm and a monitor attached to his finger. Haruka frowns, lifting his other hand to his head, the tips of his fingers brushing against what are presumably bandages where there should be nothing but hair.

Blue eyes shift to the one window in the room, open and allowing in the faintest scent of rain. It’s partially propped up by what appears to be a Christian bible.

Haruka scowls at the well-worn spine. _Idiots._

He hears the door to his room creaking open, but due to the position of his bed, he can’t see who is coming in. Haruka remains still, expression weary, but he feels an inexplicable sense of apprehension and excitement, so acute it makes his legs twitch beneath the cotton sheets.

Makoto’s expression speaks of true exhaustion, but when he notices that Haruka is awake, watching him through wide eyes, his face takes on another emotion entirely. He walks over to the bed slowly, but Haruka can see his fingers twitching.

“Hey.” Makoto sits down in a wooden chair near the right side of the bed. Haruka hadn’t noticed it before, though he now wonders how long Makoto has been waiting for him to wake up. “How are you feeling?”

Haruka considers this. He would feel completely fine if it weren’t for the pain in his head, the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. “I feel okay.” Haruka says slowly, and Makoto nods, shifting his gaze downward slightly. “How long have I been here?”

“Four days.” Makoto replies distantly. Green irises flick up once more, though they settle not on Haruka, but the Bible propping the window open. “I guess someone found us unconscious in the storm and brought us here. I left the next morning, but they said you had a concussion and probably wouldn’t wake up for a while.”

Haruka says nothing, though he’s thankful Makoto didn’t have to spend multiple nights here. His friend has never cared for hospitals much.

Silence falls over them, thick and weighted with everything they aren’t saying. Haruka doesn’t want to acknowledge what happened, can barely bring himself to face the fact that everything has suddenly changed, but he knows this is nothing short of a miracle.

He was never supposed to see those eyes again.

“Do you – “ Makoto doesn’t run from things like this, not anymore. He doesn’t hide. Of course he would be the one to speak first. “Do you still remember?”

Haruka shrugs one shoulder. “Yeah.”

Makoto laughs breathily, though it sounds slightly hysterical and rings in Haruka’s ears. “How long has it even been?”

“Too long.” Haruka replies, side-eyeing Makoto’s hands, folded together in the space between his knees.

Somehow, Makoto gets the hint, as if the time and space put between them with the years never existed, as if they still share thoughts. He reaches out and takes Haruka’s hand in his, the one without the monitor, and interlocks their fingers.

It’s far from the closeness they once shared, the intimacy, but it’s enough to dull the ache in Haruka’s chest slightly.

Considering what happened, Haruka doesn’t feel much confusion, although his head is killing him from the onslaught of new information that most likely put him in the hospital in the first place. He understands now, why he and Makoto never felt at ease with themselves or their lives, why sadness follows them no matter where they go.

This is their punishment for falling from grace. But for some reason, they’ve been brought together again. Haruka doesn’t trust it, not even a bit, but he won’t complain for now. Still. The curiosity lingers, burning just below his skin.

“Why are we like this?” Haruka asks. “We have our memories back. And you look exactly the same as you did when we were gods.”

“So do you.” Makoto says with a slight smile, as if Haruka weren’t already aware. Unlike in his first life, he can see his own reflection. “I’ve been trying to figure it out for days, but the only thing I can think of is – “

He hesitates, and Haruka stares at him hard. “What?”

“Izanagi.” Makoto says, voice hushed, as if speaking the name will spoil this reprieve from their curse. “He must have done something. There’s no way any of this is coincidence. Remember when we were banished? The Izanagi I remember from back then would never have let me so much as hold your hand again, Temperance.”

Haruka isn’t as put-off by the name as he thought he would be. It’s hard to wrap his head around, but there truly is no distinction between Nanase Haruka, Third Year high school student, and Temperance, the Fourth God of Solidarity. Haruka remembers everything, from his days of perfection to just before their fall, the millions of lives he led and the names of each one.

That being said, Haruka is no longer the same person he was in the beginning, regardless of his immortal soul. Likewise, he can see the differences between Makoto and Truth, clear as day.

It is plain to see that their reincarnation cycles have taken a toll on them. Perhaps that was Izanagi’s plan all along, to deprive them of their true selves for so long that none of them have any hope of returning to how they were before.

“I can see souls again.” Makoto says suddenly. Haruka blinks in surprise. “At first, I thought it was just a trick of the light, but every person I saw had one. I can even see yours, but – “ Makoto narrows his eyes, staring hard at Haruka’s chest. “It’s not like how it was before.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s smaller than it used to be.” Makoto looks back up to Haruka’s face, worry evident in his eyes. “And it’s way smaller than anyone else’s I’ve seen in the past few days. I don’t know what that means.”

Haruka can hardly believe it. Never mind his own enlightenment, Makoto must now have access to knowledge that no one else in this universe and the next knows, things lost with time, things given to him by Mother.

If Makoto doesn’t know something, then they are well and truly fucked, for lack of a better word.

“Don’t give me that look.” Makoto says sternly, squeezing Haruka’s hand tightly. “Just because I don’t know what’s going on doesn’t mean it’s something bad. Maybe Izanagi just decided to let us meet again on a whim.”

“A whim.” Haruka repeats, unable to keep himself from scowling. “I’ve had enough of his whims to last the rest of my lifetimes.” Makoto sighs heavily, though he doesn’t try to reprimand Haruka. “And what happens next time? We’ll just be separated again?”

“Tem. Haru.” Makoto seems to be at a loss for words. “We still have many years ahead of us in this life. There’s no use in thinking about the next one so soon.”

“The time will pass in the blink of an eye.” Haruka retorts, wanting to retract his hand from Makoto’s but finding himself physically and emotionally incapable of doing so. “It might as well have never happened.”

Linked or not, Haruka can almost feel Makoto’s hurt and sadness, and the young man feels guilty, because they’ve been given such a miraculous gift, and here he is, wasting the precious little time they have.

“I’m sorry.” Haruka murmurs. Usually he doesn’t have to say such things aloud, but this time he needs to make sure that Makoto understands. “I just feel uneasy about this. I doubt Izanagi has forgiven us for what happened to Mother.”

“No one can keep a grudge for this long.” Makoto says, and Haruka almost laughs, because if anyone knows about maintaining grudges, it would be the gods. “I don’t know. We can think about it later. You should focus on getting better.”

“I feel fine.” Haruka replies immediately, though a sharp sting at his temple makes him rethink things. “Well, better than I expected. When can I go home?”

“In a few days, I’d expect.” Makoto says, grinning cheekily at Haruka’s unenthused sigh. “Don’t worry, I’ll be here to keep you company. Dad knows I wouldn’t be able to stay home with you in the hospital.”

Haruka is relieved that he won’t have to suffer through his hospitalization with only the nurses to talk to, although he can’t help but wonder how Mr. Tachibana will fare, alone in that house. Of course, Makoto would know better than he, but the thought is still there.

“Hey, Haru?” Makoto’s smile has slipped a bit. He seems anxious for some reason. “Did you know Mother’s full title was ‘Goddess of Creation and Death?’”

He hadn't really thought about it, but now that Makoto has said something, Haruka does remember that plaque from the shrine and the words engraved in it.

As a young god, Haruka had known his mother simply as the Goddess of Creation. He’d had no idea that she carried such an ominous title, and it seems like Makoto didn’t either.

Another thing even the god of truth did not know. Haruka wonders if this feeling of unease will ever leave him.

“Once you’re better,” Makoto says, “we can start looking for the others.”

“Do we have to?” Haruka replies tonelessly, trying to disguise his longing for those who were his siblings in his first life, his true life. He can’t even begin to imagine how they’ve changed, and he’s almost scared to find out. “It could take forever.”

“If the two of us were able to meet in this life and become as close as we are, I can’t help but think that the others aren’t too far away. Come on, Haru. This might be the only chance we get to be together again, all five of us.”

Makoto doesn’t seem all that desperate to get his point across, though his gaze is as intense as it was back when their souls were new.

Haruka knows that he risks the chance of getting lost in his best friend’s eyes and looks away, unable to fight him.

“It’ll be okay, Haru.” Makoto says gently, swiping his thumb across Haruka’s knuckles. “We’ll figure something out.”

Haruka doesn’t doubt what Makoto – as the reincarnation of Truth – says, though he can’t help but wonder if finding the others will be worth it if they’ll just be forced apart in the end.

That is a heartbreak Haruka couldn’t bear to endure a second time.

* * *

When Humanity starts to engulf Truth, Temperance accepts that they have no hope of returning to perfection.

His favorite brother is the last to succumb to the sickness, a few sun cycles after Patience. One day, Truth returns to Temperance’s side and refuses to leave, saying that he has lost his desire to check on the well being of their other siblings.

He looks heartbroken as he says it, evergreen eyes glistening with tears, and Temperance holds him until the shock of it all settles, until Truth realizes that he is not the impenetrable force he always thought himself to be.

When Temperance is not watching the humans from his pool, he takes to lying in the meadows with Truth, staring up at the sky, saying nothing. They do not really speak unless they manage to communicate through thoughts as they once did.

Sparse words and concepts are better than nothing, and the two of them are reluctant to become wholly Separate from one another.

Temperance wants to try with his other brothers, although he doubts he can ever forgive Dignity. But he has not seen hide or hair of Patience or Constitution in a long time. Frankly, he would forget their existence entirely were it not for the gaping holes in his soul.

The young god cannot imagine an eternity spent like this, even if he does have Truth.

Temperance closes his eyes, curled up in the grass with Truth at his back. He thinks he could fall asleep like this, with the sun warming his face and the tickle of his dark hair against his temple, tousled by the wind.

Were it not for prior knowledge, he would not be able to tell that Truth is with him. Temperance cannot even hear him breathing over the rustle of grass in his ears, and he isn’t close enough to touch.

But a stray thought reaches Temperance, something he knows with certainty did not originate from his own mind.

“You are thinking of Mother again.” Temperance murmurs, speaking for the first time in what could be days, tucking both of his hands underneath his cheek to cushion it. “You must stop tormenting yourself, Brother.”

“I cannot help it.” Truth replies. Somehow Temperance finds himself regretting the fact that they all communicated telepathically before the foundations of their Oneness cracked, never once speaking aloud to one another. He has come to adore Truth’s voice, the softness of his tone, the way he annunciates every syllable clearly. “I have not heard from her since this entire thing began.”

“Neither have I.” Temperance admits, and he doubts his other three brothers have had any contact with their mother either. “She is surely ashamed of what we have become.”

Truth makes a mournful sound somewhere beyond Temperance’s shoulder. The young god wishes he could turn and comfort his brother, but that would be indulgent, to both him and Truth.

“Brother.” Truth says, surprised, and Temperance knows immediately that the other god is not speaking to him, for the quality of his voice is off.

Temperance sits up, glancing over his shoulder at Truth, who is staring off into space, lips pulled into a tight frown, eyebrows furrowed.

“Is it serious?” Truth asks, a worried tilt to his voice, but then his expression relaxes and he nods once. “Yes, I understand. Thank you for telling us.”

“Are you… well?” Temperance asks, confused and a little worried.

Truth turns his head to look at him, evergreen eyes wide with surprise. His head tilts the slightest bit. “Constitution was here just now. He said another war has broken out on Earth, but he and Patience are working to subdue it.” At Temperance’s blank stare, Truth’s mouth parts the slightest bit. “Tem, did you truly not see him?”

“No.” Temperance says shortly, turning his back on Truth and falling back into the grass, trying to squash down his irritation, his hurt.

Truth obviously does not know what to think, for he is silent for a long time. Eventually, Temperance feels a hand tugging at the loose fabric of his tunic, though he refuses to turn around. Unfazed, Truth moves to lie down in the grass with him, curling around Temperance’s back, leaving no space between them.

“Do not be mad.” Truth says. It almost sounds like an order, and Temperance snorts. “Maybe his omnipresence is weakened due to our situation and he did not have the power or energy to show himself to you as well as me.”

“You do not have to make excuses for him, Truth. I am perfectly aware of the fact that Constitution is upset with me.”

“Upset with you? But why?”

Temperance takes a deep breath, picking at the grass just in front of his nose. “You know very well why.”

His brother does not try to deny it. Why he even asked in the first place, Temperance does not know.

“Well, Patience is very fond of you.” Truth says thoughtfully. “You have not gone to see him in a very long time. I imagine he must feel disheartened.”

“Therefore, Constitution is upset with me for upsetting Patience.” Temperance grumbles. “Honestly. He is like a rabid guard dog.”

“As if you would react any differently if any of our brothers were to upset me.” Truth laughs, and the press of his lips against the back of Temperance’s neck sends a current straight down the young god’s spine. “He will come around. But you should still go to see Patience. I think it would do you some good.”

Temperance resists the urge to roll his eyes. Lately, he has been almost frightened by how _human_ he is becoming. He suspects this has been his temperament all along, impatient and quick to rile, though he never had the mannerisms to express it before.

He envies Truth, who has managed to remain godlike even in this time of distress. It only goes to show how good his brother really is, how noble, so much better than the rest of them.

“I have no desire to leave this place. If Patience wishes to see me, he can always come here.”

Truth is quiet for a long time. He shifts behind Temperance, wrapping an arm around his waist and scooting down in the grass so he can press his forehead to the back of Temperance’s neck. Truth has always been bigger than him, in more ways than one, and Temperance is still coming to terms with it.

“There is only so much I can do for you.” Truth whispers, hugging Temperance tightly to his chest. “Please forgive my shortcomings, Tem.”

“Truth – “

“Promise me that you will seek out our brothers. _Talk_ to them. I cannot bear to see you like this anymore.”

The young god would like to pretend that he has no idea what his brother is talking about, but that would be a lie too weak to fool Truth.

Temperance may be young, but he is by no means foolish. He has spent enough time watching the humans, those stricken by poverty and grief, the loss of their loved ones, the horrors of their newly corrupted world.

He can see the similarities between himself and the woman who cannot bring herself to leave her bed, the man who smiles for his wife and children but buries his face within his hands when they go to sleep.

Temperance drowns out his own suffering with that of the humans he observes within his pool. He hides with Truth in this meadow, and the thought of leaving it – with or without his brother – is enough to shorten his breath.

There has to be a word for it, this _thing_ that saps Temperance of his energy, makes him so irritable that he cannot recognize himself, but he does not know what it is, and he is too afraid to ask.

Knowing would make it real. It would only ascertain Temperance’s suspicion that there is no way out.

“Okay.” Temperance finds himself saying. “I will go to see Patience. But I can make no promises where Constitution and Dignity are concerned.”

“I will take only what you can give,” Truth responds sincerely, genuinely happy with the response, and the twisting sensation in Temperance’s chest dissipates somewhat, “and ask for nothing more than your best effort.” ~~  
~~


End file.
